


twin moons

by asexuelf



Series: Fenrill Week 2020 [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Break Up, Broody Fenris (Dragon Age), Elf/Elf Relationship(s), F/M, Fenrill Week 2020, Jealous Fenris (Dragon Age), One-Sided Attraction, Past Merrill/Hawke (Dragon Age), Pining, Pre-Friendship, Rare Pairings, Sad Merrill (Dragon Age), Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26043337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexuelf/pseuds/asexuelf
Summary: Her hands are so small. Pretty and little and strong. He's only felt their touch a few times before, but he remembers each time vividly, runs the moments over his tongue like he can keep them from dissolving.As if, somehow, holding them in his mouth can make the want go away.[PROMPT: Pining.]
Relationships: Fenris/Merrill (Dragon Age)
Series: Fenrill Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1890526
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22





	twin moons

**Author's Note:**

> :D day one of my super self-indulgent ship week! prompt: pining! (other prompts/days can be found on the shipweek blog, @fenrillweek, on tumblr!)
> 
> xD i had a lot of fun working on this one... after the original rough draft stopped being so terrible, anyways. i really wrestled with it, but i think i like where it ended up, even if some added length may have benefited it.
> 
> i will preface this fic by saying that casual sex is good and is not meant to be demonized or punished in this fic by any means. to avoid being too spoilery, the issue comes down to lack of communication and conflicting desires. as it so often does!
> 
> anyways akdnsbdjs enjoy!

Fenris hates feelings. Thick and cloying, like syrup they cling to him, impossible to wash away.

Not all feelings are this kind of awful, not really. Anything like peace, for example, is as glorious as it is impermanent. Calm, joy, serenity - these are not his enemies now. Nor are his enemies the usual ones which bite at him; it's not misery, fear, or rage which haunts him now, as they so often do in those dark hours he spends alone. This time it's embarrassment, hanging heavy and dark yellow in his gut that way shame and guilt often like to do when they mingle with indignation. With entitlement.

And that's what he tells himself it is: _entitlement_ , little else but ego making his mouth set into that miserable scowl that's grown somehow even more frequent with recent days. It's all ego, arrogance, and it only feeds that beast called shame even further.

He has no right to be so- so _angry._ It isn't even anger, not really, but it's in the shape of it, jagged and jealous and awful and completely unfair to the smile on Merrill's face. It's insulting to her, it's insulting to Fenris, and it's insulting to Hawke.

Hawke's hand is so large around Merrill's that it almost engulfs it completely, hiding it from Fenris' sight entirely. Her hands are so… _small._ Pretty and little and strong. He's only felt their touch a few times before, but he remembers each time vividly, runs the moments over his tongue like he can keep them from dissolving. As if, somehow, holding them in his mouth can make the want go away.

And that's another feeling he wishes he could toss away entirely. _Want._

Merrill bounces less with her hand in Hawke's, he notices, and she's quiet and reserved in a strange way that makes him tense. Still, she stares up at Hawke with eyes almost full of worship, bright and… _grateful_. Her brows curve down towards her ears, high and pinched in the middle, and her smile is soft. When she speaks, her voice is breathy, nervous, elated-

When she talks to Fenris, that smile is a tight line. Her voice is clipped. Forced.

He's such an ass. What's wrong with him?

She's happy. That's enough. It has to be, because there is no joy in this world that he could bring her that Hawke could not buy her sevenfold. There is no joy in this world that he can bring her.

The girl he loves- no, _wants,_ it's an insult to her to say that he loves her. The girl he wants. The girl he wants so badly to love is happy and that it is with another is his own fault, his own shame. _Want_ is a feeling which he cannot control, but he does control his actions and his words, and every snarling comment and dismissal he's bitten her way has been his own fault. He cast himself into the Void and now he must _live with it._

She's happy. He should celebrate this, if not beside her, then quietly in his own thoughts. He should forget this desire and be happy for his friends. He should toss it away in whatever way exists and _move on_.

Merrill certainly has.

*

It's another outing; weeks into Merrill's tentative relationship with Hawke, and Fenris is still joining them for odd jobs and wilderness treks. It's a fool's decision, but he couldn't help himself this time (or any other time), not when he saw the clipped, tight way his _amata_ replied to her _vhenan_.

He's a shameful thing, but he won't deny himself the front row seat to Hawke losing the girl of his dreams. He doesn't deserve Merrill, but Hawke doesn't either. Hawke doesn't either and Fenris is so, so angry.

He runs his tongue over his teeth, quiet and unassuming in his spot by the fire. For all his strange appearance, he blends into the scenery easily, almost invisible as he wipes gore from his greatsword, and no one bothers him. They go about their business, faces too honest for the company.

A pot is over the fire, which Merrill occasionally tends, but mostly she flits about camp, stormy and miserable. He runs his tongue over his teeth to avoid clenching them, to avoid baring them like a wolf. He thought this would be more fun. She checks the food again, the line between her brows growing only more pronounced.

Merrill's pain is much harder to stomach than her joy for another's company. The circles under her eyes, the irritation which seems to cling beneath her skin like spiderweb under a rug… It's familiar. He understands that feeling - that not-quite anger. He wants to tell her so.

But how? She's not staying in one place, too anxious to sit down, too heated to keep a conversation. She barely even acknowledges that he's here. Her eyes flit from place to place, never staying on one thing for too long, but they never land on him.

 _Can I help?_ he wants to ask. _Can I give?_

And what would she say? He knows already. He's too cruel, too vicious; she despises him, and so would smile at him, thin and brittle, and thank him sourly in that sugar-coated way she does. Her eyes would shine, but only on the surface.

He closes his eyes and listens to her footsteps, nearly silent against the dirt. She blends in too. They're alike - why can't he tell her that?

And then he hears Hawke's. Loud and hard on the dirt, as big as the man himself. Clunking with armor not yet removed, Hawke sits indelicately beside Fenris with a sigh.

"Women," he grouses.

Fenris' ear twitches and he stares, but he doesn't say anything. He goes back to caring for his sword; a poor substitute for the one he wants to be caring for. Hawke doesn't get the hint.

"I've done everything I can," Hawke says, which is almost never true. "But the damn woman just won't listen. It's like she hates being happy."

"Is that so?" It comes out rough and disinterested, barbed like wire.

Hawke doesn't recognize it. He never does: the man's all brawn. Fenris didn't used to hate him so much.

"I don't understand it," the man continues to whine. Fenris sighs. "Why is this so complicated for her? It's just sex. It doesn't help anyone for her to act a bitch."

It's anger now, familiar and red-hot. It burns him, and he wants to toss it in whatever direction he can, anything to keep it from hurting. Instead, he takes a very deep breath and doesn't attack Hawke.

"Garrett," he grinds out, almost smirking at the way Hawke's nose wrinkles. He hates to be called his name. "Has it occured to you that your relationship problems may stem from the fact that you call your _puella_ a bitch?"

"P-what-a?"

Fenris meets his eyes, unamused. "It means 'girl'. Your _lover,_ Hawke."

That makes the man before him uncomfortable; he sees it in the tense line of his throat, the shape of his mouth. He swallows too thickly, runs his own tongue over his flatter human teeth as if he's just bitten into something nasty. "I'm not sure _love_ factors into it, Fen."

"It does for her." It's an accusation, sharp and far too honest. "Don't lie with women who love you. It's bad for your health." And hers. The sadness clinging to her says it all.

Hawke laughs like a fool. "Threatening me, old friend?"

"Consider it a warning." Then, he sighs. "Find someone new to play with, Hawke. Someone who doesn't give a shit if you love them."

"What, like Isabela?"

"Even Isabela has standards, Hawke."

"Ouch!" But he doesn't sound hurt at all, still as jovial as before. "I think I'll take my advice from someone who's been laid in the past decade, thank you, though I appreciate the gesture. You're a good friend, Fenris."

Hawke stands then, his armor an array of awful noises, and leaves Fenris with a meaningless wave goodbye to muck about his tent until supper.

Time passes quickly. When dinner is shared, it is an awkward affair, made only slightly bearable by Varric's skills in conversation. The air is too tense for much else.

*

Fenris has always liked to sky too much. The stars are so fascinating to him, bright and strange against the sea-dark sky, which is sometimes inky black and other times, like tonight, far too blue with the light of the round moons.

He should be in his bedroll, fighting his usual nightmares, but he'd much rather enjoy the cool night air and turn half-remembered stories of constellations into his own tales.

When he gets to _The Lovers,_ he closes his eyes and turns away from the sky. Guilt is such an ugly thing. It tastes like bile.

With a sigh, he pushes himself up to grab his wineskin, determined to get the taste out, if not the feeling- but he stops at what he sees.

Merrill is leaving the tent she shares with Varric, arms held tight around herself. She looks… miserable. Lonely. Fenris puts it all aside and follows her. He doesn't think - he just lets her steps guide his, called forward by the wobbly line of her jaw. Her mood has hardly been high, but she hasn't yet cried. He doesn't know what he'd do if she cried.

She leads him to a clearing in the wood, seemingly not noticing him. The trees are dark, but the clearing is touched by moonlight, bright as day to elvhen eyes. Which means that when he follows her into the light, she spots him.

"Fenris." Her eyes turn watery with tears and blaze with fury. "Did you follow me so they wouldn't hear you spit at me? Afraid Varric might stand up for me for once?" She laughs humorlessly, teeth bared. "Or did you just want to watch me cry?"

"I-" Why _did_ he follow her? There was no other way this could go. "You seemed upset-"

"I _am_ upset. You must be very happy to see it."

"No-! I only followed to ask if I could-" Could what? _Hold her?_ Wipe her tears away? He sighs through his nose, at a loss. "Hawke's been a wretched ass, as is usual. I only wanted to be certain that you were well."

"I'm not." She makes a face, as if angry to hear the words and know that they're true. Shadowed by her hair, he can only see her eyes for the dim glow. They soften and grow sad. "I'm- I'm very unwell. And a terrible fool. I'd have to be, to keep putting myself through this."

A beat of silence. Fenris stares at the mossy ground, then at Merrill. "Then don't. Tell him you're finished, done."

A laugh leaves her. It's so quiet, choked into near silence, and her voice is the same when she speaks. "And who would want me then? Who would even pretend to care?" The misery on her face is palpable.

And because he too is a fool, "I would."

Her laugh is mean. Louder now, spurred by anger, she laughs. It's a dark sound, only moments away from tears. "Oh, how gratifying. Another cruel man who finds me desirable! How kind, that he is willing to put his beliefs aside to _use me._ I feel so pretty."

"You are pretty." He flounders, feeling her rage like his own. Biting is easier; this is impossible. He is not a kind creature. "But- you are more, too." And he can say so little else. He wishes he were a kind creature.

"I don't want to hear filth-"

"No! I- Of course not. I don't- not like that" He huffs, buries his face in his hands. What a wretched lie. He follows it with truths. "You frighten me, and I've made it no secret, but I… I want to stop being afraid. I want to see your kindness, your intellect, and see only that."

There's a softness in her eyes at that - a calm which wasn't there before. Still, they remain guarded. "But you can't," she whispers, sharp. "I'll always be what I am. I wouldn't change for the people who raised me, even when Marethari- ...Even when. And I refuse to change for you."

"That's another thing I want to see. Your resolve. Strength." He ducks his head, face warm. "You're angry. So am I."

"We're not the same."

"No. But I still like you." He closes his eyes. "I want to be like you. Not unafraid… You're right about that. I can't change. But I could be braver. Like you are."

A moment passes and he opens his eyes to see her wide-eyed in shock. "You think I'm- brave?"

"I do." He bites his lip to keep from smiling. "Granted, bravery is a few steps closer to stupid than I would be proud to be, but… You care. That is… more than many others can say. More than Hawke, at least."

She laughs again. It's humorless, but… light. Not so touched by misery as she's been. "Thank you. Even the stupid part, which says a lot about how the last few days have gone."

He stares. She's not smiling, but her face is soft. She's looking away, unfocused gaze locked on the trees surrounding them. He doesn't stop staring; he cannot tear his eyes away.

"He's a fool," he tells her suddenly. Her eyebrows raise, but she doesn't looks at him. "Hawke doesn't deserve you. You are better alone than beneath him."

She raises one eyebrow, meeting his stare, and he flushes.

"I- I meant-"

"I know. But it's so funny to see you so flustered, Fenris, really. You're never like this at all…" And then she's smiling, soft and delicate and uncertain, but true. A real smile. And it's for him.

"I-" Does he tell her? Does he admit it? "I only-"

But she laughs before he can say another word, her braids falling into her face as she lowers her head and grins. "Oh, I'm bullying you. I guess it's only fair, after all the times you've been cruel to me…" She's still smiling, her tone light and teasing. It's sour in that familiar way, but now, some of that sugar is real. "You're right about Hawke. And- Well, he's a bit of an ass, isn't he? I can't believe I was so…"

She doesn't continue, choosing instead to shake her head, so he says, "Good. You'll leave him then?"

"Yes." His heart soars. "It will be lonely, I think. I've gotten so used to someone beside me at night…"

_Let me. Let me help, let me give._

"It will be worth it, though, won't it? Tell me it will be worth it."

"It will be." He shifts a bit closer, almost against his will, and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It will be worth it, because you are worth more."

Another moment of shock, but then she snorts into her hand, smiling. "You're a _romantic_ , aren't you? I wouldn't have pictured it… You're usually so-" Her voice grows deep and rumbling, her chest puffed out to imitate musculature. "Grr, I'm so angry! I don't know what at, but it might as well be you!"

He laughs from indignation alone. "I am- not _always_ angry."

"No, that's true. Sometimes you're cross. Or hungry."

He looks away, smirking. "I am other things too, little witch. You just haven't seen them."

"I can't see something you don't show me…" And then Merrill sighs, almost rueful. "Well, I guess you did show me this time. I liked seeing it. You should be sweet like this more."

"I- will endeavor to be."

Her eyes grow wide. "Really? Wow! And all because I was looking a bit down…"

Her voice is so biting, but not pinched. He scratches his nose, feeling chastised.

"You're more than I thought of you, Fenris," she continues quietly. "And- thank you. For talking. And letting me bully you."

He can't help but smile, chewing on his lip stupidly while. "I won't always allow this," he teases. "But I can see you're in need of an outlet."

"You might be right," she huffs. "Oh, he makes me so angry! He says we're more, and then- Oh! I could _scream!"_

"You're welcome to."

"Knowing our luck? I shouldn't."

The line of her shoulders is gentle, her face relaxed for the first time since they set foot out of Kirkwall. It makes him smile like a fool, bright and unreserved. Bright yellow embarrassment clings again, but this time, he thinks it's worth it.

"I'm feeling sleepy at last, I think." She punctuates this with a yawn. "So… I should probably… go do that. Will you-" She doesn't continue, biting her lip nervously.

"Ask, _puella_ , and you will have it."

Her face opens up and she turns to him, looking as if she's seen a stranger. "Oh. Will you swap with Varric and bunk with me tonight? I really don't think I can stomach his snoring tonight and I _really_ don't want to share with Hawke…"

He swallows down his anger again and nods. "Of course."

"Thank you." She doesn't meet his eyes, but her ears twitch cutely, growing dark from blush. "I hope _I_ don't snore… I only just realized- I've never asked anyone, and-"

"It's alright if you snore. I get little sleep on these trips, regardless." He shrugs. "I will likely spend more of my time squinting at a book."

"Oh. Well, if you like, I could cast a magelight- but not if you don't want me to. I know how you feel about magic. It's only safer than a match, you know, and it lasts longer, so-"

"I-" He swallows. _Be brave. Give._ "I would like that. Thank you, witch. Merrill."

And she relaxes, just like that, a broad grin on her face. "Oh, good. Um. Lead the way, then? But you have to wake Varric."

Fenris laughs again. "A favor for a favor, _puella…_ My chore outweighs yours by a margin, but I'll do it for you."

_For you. If you'll let me._

Fenris turns and leads the way back to camp. For once, his chest feels… light. When he looks again at the stars, they seem brighter than before.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if i made hawke out to be a bit douchey xD i love a well-meaning hawke that just absolutely sucks at being a person
> 
> thank you for reading! 💖


End file.
